July 6, 1936, Route 66, New Mexico. This is Martha Evans, 32. She had been walking for three days. Her husband died of tuberculosis in Oklahoma in May. The farm was foreclosed. She took the six kids and a Radio Flyer wagon and started west for California. The twins in the wagon were 11 months old. The boys walking were 6, 5, 4, and 3. Her dress was torn on barbed wire. Her leg was cut and infected. She wrapped it with a feed sack. She had $1.60 in her pocket. A photographer from the Resettlement Administration saw them and pulled over. He offered her a ride. She said no. She said if she took a ride now, the kids would expect one every time they were tired. She gave him her name and kept walking. The photo ran in newspapers across the country. Donations came to a PO box in Barstow. She got $200 and a bus ticket. She made it to Bakersfield and picked grapes. All six kids lived. Three went to college. Martha died in 1978. The wagon is in the Smithsonian.
If you weren't there you don't know how big these Taster's Choice commercials were in the early 90s. It was so exciting when another 30/45 second episode would drop. RIP Anthony Head. 💔
@peterawolf Happened to me. My nephew googled what to do and it was an easy fix that involved resynching. All the songs I had downloaded from CDs disappeared with an update earlier this year. Couldn’t tell you what he did but anyone with more technological know-how than I have should be ok.
Staff: Tell them the Jesus picture was doctored.
Trump: I'm a Doctor!
Staff: Tell them it's a small military incursion.
Trump: It's a great military excursion!
Staff: Tell them they're coming seeking asylum.
Trump: They're coming from Insane Asylums!
Some days you can’t love social media enough. This is one of those days. It began like this. Someone stole 12 tons of KitKats.
And then the replies started coming in. Scroll down.
Dear the rest of the world.
Do what ever is necessary.
Boycott us. Kick us out of the Olympics. Move the World Cup this year. Or anything else you think will end this.
Help.
Is there a name for the time between 4am-7am where you wake up for a wee, then start thinking about how you don’t like it when Tom Hiddleston dances and then you end up worrying about the end of democracy and that no one likes you and then you doze for 30min? What’s that called?
I cannot overstate this… if you are afraid that your child is going to have a gender affirming surgery at school but you aren’t afraid they may be shot at school, there is no way we’re living in the same nation.